A Hopeless Case
by Little Goose Girl
Summary: It started with the letters. Or lack thereof. Newt and Tina's flourishing friendship hits a snag thanks to an unfortunate turn of phrase, a woefully inaccurate magazine caption, and the evils of long distance correspondence. A series of snippets to fill in some blanks in CoG and beyond.


**Disclaimer: The characters, scenes, places, objects and ideas you recognise are the property of J.K Rowling. The inane rubbish in between is my work.**

* * *

It started with the letters.

Or lack thereof.

Newt and Tina's correspondence had been tentative at first, but had soon flourished. Newt revelled in the fact that he could share all his discoveries and thoughts on his fantastic creatures with her, and writing had always been a welcome relief from his less than … suave … social awkwardness.

Tina's replies had been warm and full of the life he wished to visit again in New York.

It had all been going as smoothly as possible until …

Well, it was his fault, really. He'd first approached the ministry to kindly ask them to lift his international travel ban (please) a month before his book had been published – bearing the name she had suggested, naturally.

The plan had been simple. Get the publication over and done with, attend the bothersome launch his publisher absolutely _would_ insist he go to, then hop on the first boat bound for America with a copy of _Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them_ , ready to fulfil his promise and finally get to see Tina again.

But then he had been knocked back by the Ministry. That was unfortunate.

So he tried a second time. And a third.

When he received that third refusal, his frustration had reached its threshold. He couldn't very well write to Tina and tell her that they weren't letting him out of the country as they thought he was an agent of Albus Dumbledore and was working on some nefarious plan to overthrow the Ministry. Even by his standards, he knew it would sound farfetched. As true as it was.

But his frustration he could not contain, and as he sat down to finish the letter he had begun writing the day before, his passionate words may have contained a rather regrettable phrase along the lines of Aurors being a "bunch of careerist hypocrites", still fuming over their unrelenting refusal of his travel wishes.

He sent the owl on its way, seething about the Ministry, before horror washed over him in remembering that Tina was an Auror, who could take the words as intended for her. He tried to reassure himself that she was intelligent enough to realise he was speaking of _others_ – all other Aurors, really, including a certain older brother of his – and that she was different.

No, she would most certainly realise that the words were not intended as a slight on her. Yes. Of course.

And it was with this thought – which was not especially convincing – that he forced himself to attend his meeting with his publisher, and not hop on the back of a Hippogriff and chase after that owl.

The meeting had been largely dull, as his meetings with his publisher – Rupert McGroot – often were, but as this one was the final one before the book's launch at Flourish and Blotts, he tried his best to pay attention.

"Try to say as little as possible," Rupert had suggested kindly, but he looked even more nervous than Newt. A bad first impression could badly hurt the sales of the book, regardless of how important its information was, or how easily it lended itself to being a textbook for the students at Hogwarts. "In fact, better not to speak at all."

"Indeed," Newt agreed absently, his mind still stewing over his letter.

"As your brother Theseus will be there, it is best to leave all the talking to him," Rupert continued. His fingers, which had been worrying his long, red beard into a plait, were stilled as the thought relaxed him. He ploughed on, as though he had not heard Newt's stuttered "Excuse me?". "You will just need to smile for the cameras, sign a few books, and then you're done!"

"I'm sorry," Newt said, leaning forward earnestly in his armchair. He had been constantly fidgeting and moving, what with the uncomfortable stiffness of the chair that had long since farewelled any padding, but now was completely still. "But did you say Theseus would be there?"

"Hmm," Rupert nodded in agreement. "Naturally."

"I'm sorry, but there is far from anything natural about it," Newt felt despair creeping up the back of his neck at the thought. "It is _my_ book, not his, you see. And we are not exactly on the best of terms, since – well, ever."

"But who is 'Newt Scamander'?" Rupert asked. Newt sighed in defeat, knowing where this is going. "For all the positive talk of your impending tome, the press won't show up to cover a book release of just anybody. But if war hero Theseus Scamander is there, well…"

Indeed. The press would love it. All the witch weeklies would throng to the launch, it would land above the fold on the _Daily Telegraph_. And while Newt was secretly relieved at the attention being diverted from him, there were few people he'd less prefer to be the source of his gratitude.

And if Theseus was there, doubtless Leta Lestrange would accompany him. Oh dear, it would be awkward. Moments earlier, he hadn't thought anything could drive his concern about his letter to Tina from his mind, but now he was completely consumed by the dread of having to appear with Theseus and Leta at his book launch.

"Well, yes," Newt said, hurriedly standing and picking up his case. "I see your point, yes."

"Please ensure you're at Flourish and Blotts at 5pm Wednesday week," Rupert urged. Newt nodded and stepped quickly towards the door. "And don't-"

The door slammed behind Newt, and Rupert sighed. "Don't be late. Again."

* * *

The book launch had been a disaster, at least from Newt's point of view. His brother had chosen the moment before Newt was to be unwillingly forced to step up in front of the adoring crowd – the vast majority there to see Theseus, the remainder serial event attenders – to tell Newt he and Leta were engaged.

At least Bunty had been there so Newt didn't feel completely as though he were intruding – at his own launch, no less – even if her company was sometimes … tiring.

Furthermore, he had not yet heard back from Tina. It had only been a little over a week, and Newt knew that often it took her responses up to two weeks to arrive. It was, after all, quite a cumbersome journey for the poor owls. Often, she would send a reply back with his owl, Bridgett, but other times she would use an American owl.

Bridgett had returned with empty claws.

It had felt like so much longer than a week, and he had written, rewritten, and ultimately thrown away dozens of letters trying to explain away his unfortunate phrasing.

He would wait. There was no need to panic yet, he would wait.

His publisher was positively boisterous with what he deemed the 'success' of the launch. It had been nothing short of painful for Newt, who bumbled his way through photos, the odd interview – most reporters preferred to ask Theseus about his little brother, rather than speak directly to the man himself – and embarrassing book signings. But Rupert was thrilled with the amount of press coverage, and even Newt had to admit that more people were recognising him on Diagon Alley – and not just for his resemblance to Theseus anymore.

His book _had_ been a success, and sales had been very healthy. Tucked away in the 'Muggle-Friendly' compartment of his suitcase, wrapped up in his Hufflepuff scarf to protect the covers, was the very first copy of his book he had been able to lay his hands on. It was also the first he had signed – though he blushed and felt uncomfortable to think of it like that. It was not so much that he had signed it, no, it was more an inscription. Like his mother always wrote inside the covers of books she gifted him for Christmas or his birthday.

Only this did not bear the words, ' _Dear Newt, Happy 10th birthday, Love Mum_ '. He had practised his wording on countless rolls of parchment, trying to get down the exact phrase he wanted. There was the overly sentimental, ' _Dear Tina, the only creature in the world more fantastic than those in this book are you, Love from Newt_ ' – oh, how he cringed to think he had ever thought that would be suitable – to the disinterested ' _To Tina, Happy reading! Newt Scamander_ ', which he repurposed, in the end, for every book he had been forced to sign at his launch.

But that was so wildly inadequate to send to the woman he had been thinking of every day – several times every day – for the past seven months, that it too had been quickly crossed out.

At last, he decided to sign it, ' _Dear Tina, love always, Newt_ ', before he shied away as he put quill to paper inside the book and ended up writing, ' _To Tina, from Newt_ '.

There, it would have to do. He could hardly write over the top of it now. He felt his wand burning in his coat pocket, but refused to bring it out. No, no, he had spoken truly, from the heart.

The book _was_ intended for Tina. So 'To Tina' was perfectly adequate.

And it _was_ from him. So 'from Newt' – perfect. Yes.

He would not think of it any more. When he ink had dried, he had hastily wrapped the book up in his scarf and stowed it safely in his suitcase, pausing as he opened the lid to admire the newspaper photograph of Tina he had taped to the inside of the lid. He was forever grateful to Queenie for sending him a copy of _Wizarding World News_ from New York.

Seeing those eyes smiling back at him – not as impressive as their real-life salamander-like counterparts, but simply charming nevertheless – Newt decided he could not wait any longer to hear back from Tina. So what if she received two letters in a row from him It would hardly be the first time.

He chose not to mention his remark about Aurors – if she wasn't offended by it, as she shouldn't be, then it would be silly to bring it up again. And she _wouldn't_ be offended by it. He intended to tell her all about the book launch, and Theseus and Leta being there, and their engagement, but he was still so upset – if that was the right word – that it came out as a jumbled and confused mess.

He wrote the letter again. And a third time. And a fourth. Each time, trying to edit out or tidy up the bits where he came out sounding like a fool. In the end, he was left with a very bland letter indeed.

He despaired, reading it back, his large hand jumping to his fringe and brushing it back in dismay.

 _To Tina,_

 _Wednesday last my book was finally launched. It was an unnecessarily big to-do, with far too much press there. Leta Lestrange was in attendance, and Bunty – my assistant who I mentioned in an earlier letter, the one where I wrote you about the Kelpie that is too fond of fingers – and my brother, too._

 _Happily, much of the attention was on him at the launch, which suited me just fine. I had Leta for company while Theseus fielded endless questions from reporters. And Bunty, when she wasn't overwhelmed by the crowd._

 _I hope you and Queenie are well._

 _Kind regards,_

 _Newt Scamander_

It was short, and rather boring, Newt feared, but hopefully it would show Tina that things were still normal between them, and that none of his frustration with Aurors had been directed at her.

No, it was all aimed at the ones who were keeping him from her, and all the creatures he longed to study abroad.

So he sent it off, and now eagerly awaited her reply. If she had already replied to his previous letter as he penned the new one, he might even have two brand new letters on the way, to read and reread and store in the tin box he kept in the shed in his case.

It was something to look forward to, and to help him distance himself from the discomfort of his brother being engaged to Leta.

Oh, had he mentioned Theseus had asked him to be best man?

After his initial horror had worn off, the absurdity of it almost made him laugh. Tina might appreciate it; he would have to mention it in his next letter.

* * *

A week passed, and then two. And then a month.

Still no letter from Tina.

As Newt sat in the foyer outside the small hearing room at the Ministry of Magic, miserably awaiting his fourth attempt to have his travel ban removed, he tried to fight down the panicked thoughts that something had happened to Tina, though he knew that was unlikely.

He had had a strange letter from Queenie a week ago, congratulating him on his book being published, mentioning she read about it in a magazine - _had Tina not told her after reading his letter, then?_. She had gone on excessively about her fondness for pastries, which seemed an odd thing to write in a letter, and spoke a little bit about her work. There was just one mention of Tina in the whole three-scroll correspondence, a line towards the end saying, "Tina is doing fine", and then she signed off.

So Tina was fine, which was good to hear. And his owl, Bridgett, had returned on the four occasions he had written her since the book launch in fine spirits, and he knew she had delivered the letters to Tina. He tried not to dwell on how his heart mis-beat each time she came back empty-clawed.

Perhaps his comment about Aurors _had_ offended Tina, or perhaps she had simply grown tired of corresponding with him.

Perhaps she preferred the company of her American friends to the letters from her strange British friend.

Perhaps her work was keeping her busy.

Perhaps she had found someone else – as was her right, of course, Newt hastily chastised the sinking feeling in his stomach. There was no understanding between them. They were … well, they were friends. Perhaps he had hoped for a future with more, but perhaps she was not yet there. Or ever would be.

Or perhaps…

Oh, how he wished she would just write!

But as she wouldn't, he would simply have to go to America, apologise in person and deliver his book _in person_ as he had said he would.

"Mr Scamander?" the droll voice emerged from the entrance to the hearing room. He stood, and steeled himself.

Here was hoping for fourth time lucky.

* * *

 **It had been a very, very long time since I've written anything, but watching Fantastic Beasts got that bug dancing in me again, as has reading many of the brilliant stories on here.**

 **Apologies for the rustiness, but feedback, criticism always welcomed!**

 **Thanks for reading,**

 **Little Goose Girl.**


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